Imperfections
by Vanja86
Summary: Nature vs. nurture. Khan never had a chance. What will happen when he finally gets one? Slight AU. Read and find out. Reviews are welcome and appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC**

Khan knowledge about prison cells was rather extensive. Most of them was dark, dirty, oppressively small and reeked of desperation that had something to do with ancient lavatory that often stood in the corner and was cloaked in piss and shit left by previous occupants. Most often, he left his enemies to such conditions. He found that a damp cubicle with a shabby wall from which plaster was falling off pretty liberally did wonders to ones inclinations to share sensitive Intel. In this, like in many other things, the 23rd century was different.

His cell was big and boring, very similar to the one he was in on the Enterprise. Like the last one, this one also had a transparent wall that allowed guards to watch him all the time. Unlike the last one, it had a shiny, metal toilet so taking piss was awkward at best. Although the bed didn't possess any planks, springs and a mattress full of bedbugs it was hard to sleep on. Literally. His sleeping arrangement consisted of a simple and efficient design that was similar to an unplaned wooden board and as much comfortable, even though it came in white. To be honest, he didn't sleep much or at all. He persuaded some Starfleet egghead, who had misfortune to supervise his stay in San Francisco prison facility, to part with one of the PADD. _So gullible, _he noted sardonically as he devoured another law text in regard to terrorists acts.

In the middle part he was disturbed by the commotion that was taking place in front of his cell. A new person entered the corridor and tried to convey some message to the guards. They weren't listening. No wonder. The boy looked like he borrowed his father's clothes and decided to pretend he's an adult for one day. Little, scrawny with bones sticking out in weird angles, with ton of a hair gel and a too big suit. He didn't resemble a respectable attorney. He carried some half dead synthetic leather suitcase that had seen better days and he gesticulated animatedly while spewing some ridiculous ideas. _So, Starfleet decided to screw me over by assigning to the case the most inexperienced and incompetent lawyer in the galaxy, _he sneered inwardly at their unethical behavior. _Although in all fairness the jury might take pity on me after they'll see that I'm represented by this disgraceful human_. In the last desperate effort the boy threw himself on the glass wall. Khan was disgusted by this performance. It all looked quite comical, his body glued to the surface, his face plastered and distorted, until he realized that on the right hand the boy had a tattoo of _the butterfly_. Immediately, he rose and directed his full attention to the unexpected guest. Rapidly, he crossed the distance separating them and he inspected him all over again. He didn't arrive to different conclusions. He was as pathetic as a minute earlier but the mark presented a puzzle and a dilemma. _Is it genuine or is it a trap to gain his trust?_, he wondered. _It's certainly no coincidence that for the second time this week he's confronted by the mark from the past._

He saw it in a medical bay on the Enterprise where he was patiently waiting for the opportunity to save his crew and destroy Starfleet in the process. But when he was perfecting 34th plan how to take over the starship a song from the past gently flew in the tense silence that surrounded him. The Bengali was a dead language, of that he was sure. And yet someone, somehow managed to utilize a song written by an old, ephemeral acquaintance to gain his full attention. Someone, somehow also managed to hack into Enterprise mainframe computer in order to deliver a message which consisted of short text:

"The last time I've given you an advice you rejected it. I hope this time your experiences will prompt you to do the opposite. What you plan won't work. Put your trust in Kirk. He is an honorable man."

Instead of a signature a butterfly hologram flapped its wings gently to finally dissolve into nothingness. On of this things happening he would disregard without hesitation but all of three indicated that an old associate was involved. For the first time in his life he decided to listen to someone who wasn't his kind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC**

Law abiding citizens were certain that incarceration was the most humanitarian method of punishing criminals. Its cruelness wasn't obvious. In the department of living conditions prisoners wanted for nothing: they were fed, clothed, under professional medical care, had games, sport, art and even education. And yet prisons were a hellish dimension of never ending routine and boredom so vast it paves the way for insanity effortlessly.

Khan wondered briefly whether he didn't succumb to it already. He attacked fervently information stored in his, recently, underused synapses, reexamining them from different angles and coming up with new ideas that could be of use in the immediate future. After he ran out of useful thoughts to think through he counted and recounted all the lamps, squares, lines and dotes that adorned his holding room. In order to pass time he invented some games and songs, even though he wasn't particularly talented when it came to art.

Sometimes he wanted to rip through one of the guard's carotid and admire a gushing fountain of blood that would paint unexpected patterns on the pristine walls. He especially dreamed about damaging Mr. Taylor. A young, insolent Starfleet officer who relieved him of his swindled PADD and who by extension was a source of his never ending misery.

In his hopeless hours of tedious monotony he welcomed all and any disturbances. On of them just crossed a threshold of his holding sector. Kirk usually moves with a spring in his step that stems from inborn optimism and carelessness. He barely contains tendrils of restless energy that fill his limbs and push him towards exuberance, thoughtless actions and unforeseen disasters.

At the moment Kirk is moving with the purposefulness of a fired phaser and a grace of a raging tornado.

"How did you manage to do that?", Kirk asked furiously as he was cutting through space.

"Did what, Kirk?" he countered with dismissive indifference. "Two days ago you accused me of leaking information to the press in regard to my and Admiral Marcus' predicaments. You were positive that I hacked into highly protected Starfleet servers, stole and shared classified documents. Normally, it wouldn't be a shocking conclusion however you believed I realized my nefarious plan through a _standardized_ PADD. A PADD that is not in my possession anymore, thanks to you, I might add".

"When you say it like that it sounds slightly ridiculous" Kirk verbalized in a smaller voice. "But its all very convenient for you", he continued more heatedly. "After the press and citizens got a whiff of blackmail, treachery and embezzlement of public funds, they went bonkers over it. Ambassadors, politicians, and common people are out there and they want blood, so of course Starfleet had to give them something. Between a very embarrassing internal treason and independent actions of a suspected terrorist, the decision was quite simple. So they gave you out and hoped you will be eaten. Instead you've become a martyr! People are _sympathizing_ with you. Some believe you are the embodiment of all human qualities that were lost to the past. You've got your own fan club for God's sake!"

"_Why_ would I care If a band of inbreed monkeys found me an interesting object of their attention?", he snarled aggressively.

"Argh, don't be obtuse.", Kirk exclaimed exasperatedly. "You will use their sympathy to facilitate and speed up all legal procedures… but that is neither here nor there. _What is important_ is that yesterday an unidentified group of people managed to spirit away your crew. For the last 12 hours I and many other Starfleet officials were trying to establish whether they were taken by section 31. They were not. So, at the moment you are on top of anyone's list of suspects. You have the _motivation_ and _skills_ to pull it of."

Khan stared at him in silence. His typically straight posture became more rigid. Additional tension sneaked into his shoulders and clenched his jaw. In unnaturally flat and low tone he asked "Are you accusing me of _stealing_ what you've sworn to _protect_?"

AN: **Dreamsingreen** thank you for my first ever public review. I am flattered by the fact that you decided to use some of your time to send me encouraging words


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